


Hold My Drink

by GreenReticule



Series: Hermit Crab, Hermit Cockroach - A Maul Lives AU [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Maul Lives, Obi-Wan's Sass, Twin Suns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-22 06:15:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10691415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenReticule/pseuds/GreenReticule
Summary: Staying with Kenobi wasn't the worst decision Maul had made, but that didn't make it the best either.





	Hold My Drink

It wasn’t as if Maul craved a hedonistic life. Drink, noise, crowds; they were empty things. Tools, perhaps, but not pleasures to be sought. For a Sith (even an ex-Sith), the Force and its darkness - power, passion, rage - was all one needed in life. 

(Yes,  _ all _ one needed. Attachments were also tools to be used. It wasn’t as if he was staying with this accursed Jedi out of  _ fondness _ .)

But blast it if the “nice” quiet of the hut wasn’t driving him up the walls. He needed distraction.

He had tried to find it in the wilds of Tatooine. The all-encompassing desert was hardly lively with sport - nothing remotely close to battling rathtars - but even the hunt that Maul may have found pleasure in was hamstrung by… well… who else?

No, it wasn’t the hut that was driving him into a fever. It was Kenobi.

As usual.

Every excursion Maul took into the desert was curiously devoid of all prey. Banthas mysteriously shifted their grazing trails. Womp rats were completely absent from their breeding grounds. And (Force knows how Kenobi pulled this one off) a whole field once full of Sarlaacs was abandoned without a trace.

At the point when he’d even welcome taking on a herd of eopie, Maul had stormed back to the hut, where the Jedi smiled at him over the brim of a mug. Maul jabbed a finger in Kenobi’s direction and demanded “How?” to which Kenobi replied, “You start muttering to yourself about three days beforehand.”

On his next hunt, Maul made sure he kept his frustrations to himself and slipped out in the dead of night, tracking Tusken Raiders. It was not difficult, and soon he found himself hovering at a cliffside, ready to spring upon the unsuspecting party below. Suddenly, the Tuskens scattered as a great cry rent the air. Thrill surged through Maul’s veins as he spun to find the source of the roar. He may have been denied one prey, but a krayt dragon? That would indeed sate the restless ache that he -

\- he almost reswore vengeance then and there.

If Kenobi’s smug smile had given voice to a laugh, he most certainly would have.

So the only option left to Maul for some form of distraction from the “peace” of Kenobi’s hut and from Kenobi himself was the town of Mos Eisley.

(There was the moisture farm owned by the Lars family, but there was no reason to cause chaos or draw attention there. ...and that was simply because the Empire’s eye needed to stay away from the Chosen One until the time was right. Not because Maul had developed any sort of fondness towards the boy. Of course not.)

Mos Eisley was “lively,” or as lively as this pathetic planet got. The fact that Maul had to stand against the cantina’s wall with his drink, for all the seats were full, said more about the size of the bar than the popularity of its menu. Nevertheless, it gave his eyes and his mind something to do.

He began measuring the occupants against himself. The large Besalisk that was throwing his weight around the bartender would be an easy takedown. The smaller Kyuzo that sat quietly listening to the band play would be a harder, but more satisfying, opponent. The old human who graciously accepted his drink before retreating to the wall next to Maul was an infuriating pest.

“Am I a child to be chaperoned?” Maul said in that gentle tone that warned of rage boiling beneath the surface.

“Who said anything about a chaperone? Can’t a man have a drink with his guest?”

“Can’t a guest leave his host without being tracked like a fugitive?”

“I hardly think you have the right to complain about being stalked across a desert.”

Maul’s response was interrupted as they were approached by a rough-looking quad of thugs, led by a sneering Twi’lek. 

“Good evening, grandfathers,” the leader said in what he probably assumed was a civilized tone. “You look like a pair of fine men who’d be willing to share your money with some honest citizens of Tatooine.”

He tapped his blaster against Kenobi’s chest.

Maul was not impressed. Neither, it appeared, was Kenobi. He paid far more attention to his drink than the muggers as he said, “Run along, boys, before you get hurt.”

Maul had to allow himself a smile at that. He crossed his arms to provide punctuation to Kenobi’s statement.

“Well, well, well,” the Twi’lek leaned in close to both Kenobi and Maul, shifting his eyes this way and that between them. “Looks like Gramps and Grandpop have decided to make things difficult. You keep this up, and I’ll have to do things the hard way.”

“Oh, please do. I’ve been longing for some sport,” Maul grinned wider, thrusting his glass towards Kenobi.

Kenobi stared at the glass, took a sip from his own, and like the irritant he was, made no move to hold Maul’s drink.

“No altercations in the cantina!” the bartender snapped from across the room, palming a rifle meaningfully. “Take it outside!”

“You heard the man,” the Twi’lek waggled his blaster at them. “Why don’t you two gents lead us outside so that we can conduct our business?”

“You have not even the slightest notion of what you’re asking, but I will gladly educate you,” Maul rapped the knuckles of his beverage hand against Kenobi’s chest, “Hold my drink.” 

Kenobi’s gaze flicked from the glass, to Maul’s face, then to an indeterminate spot on the cantina’s far wall, an eyebrow arched. “I only cut off your legs. Your hands should be working fine.”

The Twi’lek recoiled to give Kenobi a confused look that went entirely ignored by the Jedi. A few mutterings about resworn vengeance also went ignored.

Wiping the confusion from his face, the Twi’lek laughed, “Oooo, the old man has a history of dismemberment! I’m quaking. C’mon Grandpop, show me what you’ve got, and maybe we’ll go soft on you.”

That too went ignored.

“Spittin’ sands, this is going to be the easiest steal. Grandpop’s too afraid to fight, and Gramps ain’t half the man he is. Now  _ c’mon _ , gents, before I’m forced to disappoint our bartender and make a mess in here.”

Also ignored.

Maul was practically shoving his glass into Kenobi’s face by now. 

“Hold. My. Drink.”

Ignored.

One of the Twi’lek’s lackeys tapped his leader on the shoulder, his eyes tracking a family that was just leaving the cantina, “I say we leave these geezers alone. There’s better deals to be had.”

Maul felt Kenobi go rigid next to him.

The Twi'lek followed his lackey’s gaze, catching a glimpse of the father hoisting a small child into his arms before stepping out into the hot sun. He grinned, “Aya, mate. I think you’re right. Things are always easier with little ones involved.”

The thugs turned away, their former prey forgotten entirely.

Maul wordlessly extended an open hand towards the Jedi.

With a discarded robe thrown over his shoulder, Maul held Kenobi’s drink and grinned.

Tatooine was hardly a lively planet, and Kenobi was a wretched pain, but they had their moments.


End file.
